


Hello, Chloe Price.

by PavelTheWriter



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Post-Before The Storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 16,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PavelTheWriter/pseuds/PavelTheWriter
Summary: A sequel to Before the Storm, written in the form of Rachel Amber's audio journal.





	1. Entry 1: July 23, 2012. 2:14AM

Recorded: 7.23.12 2:14 AM Length: 3m48s

Hello, Chloe Price…

-Rachel laughs-

Was that sexy? You literally just left. I can still hear your truck through the open window. In fact, you can probably hear it too, here…

-Silence-

Hear that? That's you, Chloe Price, wreaking havoc (as always) on the sleeping Arcadia Bay. I wonder what the old Tobanga would say about all that racket? …Ugh, fuck that old stump. Who cares what he'd say? I love hearing your stupid truck…

Anyway, guess what I found just now in the darkest corner of my closet? Any guesses? Come on. Going once, going twice…? It's the old night light, of course! Remember the one with all the stars? So now I'm lying on my bed, alone, staring at the ceiling. It's got nothing on the junkyard sky, but… Do you realize it's been over two years since that night? The Night of the Tempest. Do you even remember it, Price? How we walked home with all that ash falling on our heads? How you McGuyvered this thing into a fucking lighthouse? ...And held me?

...Well, I do. Somehow, despite all the drinking and the smoking you've been putting me through, I still remember everything. That present you gave me two birthdays ago? Yeah, that one? Well, I still have it.

-Rachel laughs-

Stop laughing, or blushing, or whatever it is you're doing.

-Rachel sighs-

But back to the Tempest. We've had some good times on this isle, my faithful Ariel, but… don't you think it's time these cloud-capped palaces and solemn temples dissolved? I know. I know we haven't talked about L.A. in a while, and I know it's my fault. Mostly? With all the… stuff, and mom, and… the club, and school… And us. We were happy. Are. Happy. Still. But this town… it feels heavy again. Like we're on Jupiter or something. Do you feel it? Have you been feeling it all this time and not saying anything only because… of me? I wish you'd tell me, Chloe. And in fact, you will, because we will be talking about this. Tomorrow. I'm just recording this today to try out this new phone mom got me. Why not a car, right?

I wish we'd left that night… It would have been so much easier then, when we were 16. And now I'm suddenly 18… What are we still doing In Arcadia Bay? Do you even want to leave, at all? Well, you don't have a choice. You oweth me, Ariel, for freeing you out of that pine!

Seriously, I got this weird feeling today (you probably didn't notice) that this is going to be my last birthday in Arcadia Bay. One way or the other… Whatever that means. Maybe it was a dream I forgot. Probably means I'm going to set this town on fire, if you don't take me away. You know I can…

Anyway, we are talking about this tomorrow. For now, thank you for another wonderful birthday. Good night, Chloe Price. Blazingly yours, Rachel Amber.

-Rachel laughs-

Are you even supposed to "sign" these voice messages? Who cares. Not like I'd let you listen to this. I'd die of shame. Nope. It stays in the app. For all of eternity. Mwah.


	2. Entry 2: July 23, 2012. 8:15PM

Recorded: 7.23.12 8:15PM Length: 3m38s

Hello, Chloe Price.

Honestly, I didn't think I'd be back talking to this thing so soon, or at all, but here we are. This phone is fast becoming my trusty confidante. What do you think it means? Does mean I'm a liar? Or a coward? Cowardly Liar?

-Rachel groans-

Maybe it's just a test. Do you think one day we'll get high and listen to these and giggle like mad people?

OK, so in case you can't tell by my voice, it was kind of a shitty day.

At first, everything was normal. You picked me up, we went and got a hangover special at the Two Whales, then drove back to your place. Ran into old Step Ladder in the driveway, so happy about something, it seemed like he was about to defile the both of us with crushing fatherly hugs. I guess the big news is, Wells boozed away the last of his marbles and made David the Head of Security at Blackwell. Aren't you happy to be expelled?

-Rachel imitating Principal Wells' voice-

"The Blackwell Academy will be known henceforth as the Blackwell Military Academy. Cadet Amber, drop and give me twenty! Off to waterboarding with you!"

Remember when we used to think old Skip was kind of a pain in the ass? What I wouldn't give to have him back now. Not a chance, of course. He's probably off playing shows in Liverpool or somewhere. Chloe, even Skip managed to skip Arcadia Bay. What are we still doing here?

Anyway, thanks for telling the step-douche you'd hit him with a tire iron if he touched us. It was great to see that mustache droop. At least you're still good for something, Chloe Price.

Once David drove his dumb muscle car Blackwell-wards, we went upstairs and smoked and listened to some music, and laughed about the crazy shit we did the day before, and talked about going to Mt. Hood for a few days, before the school started. It felt so good to be making plans again that somehow, even though we spent like six hours doing this, I still didn't bring up going to LA, like I'd promised. I guess I was waiting for the right moment or… for you to mention it, or… Ugh. I don't know, Chloe. We'll talk about it. Just not today. One trip at a time, cool?

So, next was a supply run for the Junkshack, and I had to fairly drag your curmudgeonly ass into the photo booth, so that we would have at least one pic of us from 20-fucking-12.

Note to self: schedule a therapy session for Chloe's photophobia.

-Rachel sighs-

All right, so here comes the shitty part. We drove to the junkyard with the supplies, and there was Frank's RV, waiting for us. I guess you had made an appointment with him and didn't mention it. Because why should you. I dragged myself out of the truck, grabbed an armful of crap and headed for the shack, doing my best to ignore Pompidou, who was trying to slobber all over me. I guess you both offered help, but I just stomped on and didn't come out again. Thankfully, Frank was smart enough not to stay...

You must have thought I got jealous of you and Frank or something, because you were acting all affectionate afterwards. It was real cute, Chloe Price… But the truth is… Frank and I have been… hanging out… for a while.

-Long silence-

Of course, I didn't tell you that. Instead, I played along, pretending to be mad, until I worked myself up into a tantrum and stormed off, just to get away from you.

So now we both feel like shit. Which is only fair, since we're best friends, right? All I need right now is for you to call and apologize. Then maybe I'll hike to the lighthouse and jump off the cliff.

-Rachel sobs-

What is wrong with me, Chloe? I want to blame this town. I've always done that… But... what if it's me? What if I just keep hurting you, even if we manage to escape Arcadia Bay together? Wouldn't it be better for everyone, if I just disappeared one day?

-Long silence-


	3. Entry 3: July 25, 2012. 1:17AM

Recorded: 7.25.12 1:17AM Length: 5m24s

Another day in paradise, Chloe Price.

First, I make up a lame excuse to avoid my best friend. I mean, orientation and school supplies? Really? You weren't within a ten-mile radius of believing me, but still you said nothing. Why not, Chloe? You used to call out my every bullshit. Why are you making allowances now? What's changed?

In other news, Rachel Amber freaks out at Frank and Pompidou, then writes both of them a fucking letter of apology.

And... I guess this is my letter of apology to you.

Frank... is a good guy. You know what he did for us better than I do. Being our dealer, he's also hella easy to get a hold of. Which is what I did, eventually. I mean, I knew he liked me… since early on, but that wasn't why I contacted him that first time. Can you guess? I'm sure you can. We haven't talked about it since the hospital, but I kept thinking about Sera… I'm sorry I haven't told you this, Chloe. But I didn't want you to be in any more danger because of me. So I went to Frank and asked him to find her again. You know how he has to maintain his tough facade, so of course he demanded something in return.

Don't clench your knife handle, Chloe Price. It wasn't what you think.

He just wanted me to do some work for him on campus.

So I did for a while. All last year, in fact. Yeah, it's been going on that long. I am scum of the earth.

He found her, finally. She refused to come see me, though, and Frank would not take me there. I even got drunk once and asked that creepy truck driver who hangs at the Two Whales to take me to LA… Good thing he said no...

-Rachel sighs-

Then… last spring... Sera died. Overdose… Accidental or… I don't know… March 8, to be exact, three days before your birthday. Frank told me on the 10th…

And you know what? I bet you couldn't even tell. With a little chemical help, I was totally fine celebrating with you. Do you remember? Our second Firewalk show. I mean, nobody tried to cut your throat with a broken bottle, and the only thing we burned were our insides, but that was still some of my finest stage-diving work to date. Fuck, I love those nights with you.

Anyway, with Sera dead, you'd think my business with Frank was concluded… Even he said as much… And yet I kept coming around. Remember that time I went on a family road trip? The one I sent you that post card from? "Wish you were here?" Well, the family didn't come...

Should I wear a helmet when I tell you this, Chloe Price? Are you going to knock my head off with a baseball bat? Or maybe you're hiding something, too? I wonder what you do when I'm at school…

-Rachel laughs-

Listen to me… I sound like we're married or something… We're not married, are we, Price? You'd probably laugh in my face at the suggestion.

It's just that... after everything we'd been through, I didn't think we would ever have secrets from each other again... And yet here I am sitting on a pile of them, like some dragon guarding a treasure. You being the treasure, of course.

It's so weird how we... decide not to say something once to protect a friend, and the next thing we know is we're doing it without thinking, like it's the most normal thing in the world. Everybody lies, no exception, right? Is keeping a secret the same as lying? Does it ever become too late to start telling the truth? Like, is there a line, which, if you crossed it, the truth would just destroy everything?

-Long silence-

So listen, Chloe… if I survive this conversation about Frank, I promise not to keep secrets from you anymore. And also I promise - if you'll still want me to, that is - to take you away from Arcadia Bay. Again. Only… since Sera died, I've been thinking that LA might not be far enough for us.

How about Kathmandu? How about Everest? Would you run away with me for a year - or three - to see the world? And then we can come back, go to college and become adults, or something crazy like that. Sounds like death, but we can't run from it forever.

Of course, we'll need a lot more money, but maybe I can work something out.

-Rachel laughs-

I swear I'll tell you all about it! I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. Frank is a good guy, but there's only one Chloe Price. So what do you say? Will you still be my faithful driver, bodyguard and companion?

I really hope so.


	4. Entry 4: July 31, 2012. 11:31PM

Recorded: 7.31.12 11:21PM Length: 4m38s

I guess it's your turn to avoid me, Chloe Price, and as with everything else, you're overdoing it. A fucking week?

Summer is, like, almost over, and you're pulling double-shifts at the Whales?

According to anonymous sources sending sporadic texts from Ms. Price's phone, step-douche's new executive post has not filled the family's coffers (or even the family's refrigerator)yet. At the same time, Joyce has been laid out with dysentery or the Bubonic plague, leaving the diner at the mercy of throngs of noisy tweens from various Christian camps, stopping in for a helping of pig on their coastal pilgrimage to the sites of important atrocities committed against the local Native American tribes.

I hope you didn't poison your mother just to teach me a lesson, Chloe Price.

-Rachel laughs-

Wow, that was a dark joke. I guess you're rubbing off on me.

For the record, I don't count yesterday as seeing you. Yes, I came to the diner and you didn't charge me for pie, but you had these fat camp counselors in khaki shorts hanging from your every limb, and we hardly spoke.

You looked ridiculous, by the way, in that apron on top of the Raven Hair shirt. You don't belong in a diner, Chloe. Though… I do wonder how you would look in the actual uniform…

Moving on… Speaking of not belonging, guess who I ran into yesterday after I left the Two Whales?

Whoa, no. Not Max Caufield. Actually, it was Steph. She immediately hit on me, of course, but you can't really blame her. Jokes aside, Steph transferred out. Her dad got, like, a movie job in LA… and I guess she would rather follow him there, than stay at Blackwell. Go figure… Anyway, Steph sends her regards. I told her to text you, but then we hugged it out for a while, and I'm not sure she remembered anything afterwards…

-Rachel laughs-

That's what you get for leaving me on my own for a week, Chloe Price.

But don't worry, it wasn't all bad. I got to share the joy that is Rachel Amber with my other Arcadia Bay friends, whom I've been neglecting thanks to you. That there is basically a quote-unquote from Justin. Yes, while you were flipping blueberry pancakes and splattering batter all over yourself, I've been hanging out with the cute skater boys by the beach. The privileged princess that I am…

-Rachel sighs-

Chloe, you know what the golden hour is? Yes, it's rhetorical. Shut up, you punk. I'm trying to tell you something here. The golden hour is a short time during the day, when the sun is low, and its light is so soft, that it makes everything look its best. I watched the sunset at the beach today and the thought occurred, as you would say, that you, Chloe Price, are my golden hour… I… like myself best when I'm in your… light, I guess. And when you're not there, I begin to doubt everything. Like, even saying this now… Am I confessing my love here, or am I saying that I'm using you to make myself look better? I really don't know. And there's no one to ask.

-Silence-

Nothing gold can stay. Robert Frost… What a dickhole. Fuck him. There's gotta be a way.

-Rachel inhales deeply-

I can't tell you about Frank, Chloe. I'm sorry. I'm going to hope we run away before the truth comes out, and I never have to think about it again. And if you find out on your own and… you know, stop… wanting to be my friend… Well, then the fates will have spoken. The fire of the golden hour must end and turn into darkness. And that's where I'll be.


	5. Entry 5: August 6, 2012. 2:15PM

Recorded 8.6.12 2:16PM Length 7m58s

-Rachel groans-

You're my angel, Chloe Price.

You know how you tell everyone who will listen that I saved your life? I really wish you'd stop. It's embarrassing. That asshole with a broken bottle wasn't going to kill you. I'm sure I didn't think so at the time, at least. If I did, I probably wouldn't have jumped in to that fight. I mean, I hardly knew you. Why would I risk my life for some punk girl I just met?

You, though… You've been there for me from the start, even when I didn't deserve it.

That first time we ditched school... The only reason I dragged you into it was because I was too afraid to go it alone, and there was no one else I could ask. A million friends at Blackwell, and not one of them would follow Rachel Amber on a "field trip." Justin is as cool as they come, for a rich white kid, but can you imagine him hopping on that train? And the Vortex snobs? No way. They'd rat me out so fast, I wouldn't have made it out of the door. Oh, but Chloe Price… The tough chick who hikes for an hour to catch a show at a sketchy abandoned mill, and drops a guy with a bottle to the face. The girl who has no friends and no problem ditching school, without even being asked. The girl who might think she owes me one. It was pure math.

Damn, what a day that was… You blew my mind, Chloe Price, and you kinda been doing it ever since…

And what did you get for saving me? Or even just being around me? Expulsion? Family trouble? Got nearly killed a few times?

I mean, I try to give back... I got you that part in the play…

-Rachel laughs-

Oops! Oh, shut up. You loved it and you know it.

But seriously, Chloe, these debts are piling on, and I don't know I'm ever going to be able to square them away. Maybe when some massive cyclone comes through here and erases Arcadia Bay from the map of Coastal Oregon, maybe I'll pull your half-broken body out of the wreckage and say, "We're even now, Chloe Price!"

And you'll be like, "Cough. Cough. Gasp. Wait a minute! This may make up for me driving you to the hospital before you bled out that one time, but how about that other thing at the junk yard?"

And I'll say, "Fuck! Can a meteor please strike this ruin of a town now, so I can save this insufferable goddamn friend again?"

-Rachel takes a deep breath-

Look at me joking around again. Today hella sucked, Chloe Price, and it wasn't a game.

Last night was the bonfire party at the junkyard. You know I'm all about those. All that fire and booze and guitar music… You were supposed to come…

Anyway, last days of summer, we went at it pretty hard. Pretty much everyone was there. Hayden, Dana, Nathan, some sophomores. I know you hate half of them, or… two thirds. Nine out of ten? You know what, though? They're assholes at school, because they're stressed. They're not as smart as you are, but expectations for them are super-high. So they freak, and medicate, and walk around snapping at everybody. Summertime, though? Different people. Chill. Did you know Hayden, like, writes songs and sings? And you know what else? They all jealous that I get to hang out with Chloe Price. Seriously…

-Rachel's tone changes-

Long story short, I woke up in the shack. Alone. You know I wouldn't let anybody in there…

The sun was not up yet. Everything was gray, and a raven was cawing like a madman somewhere close. My head was pounding. My mouth tasted like a cat pissed in it. I really wanted to brush my teeth.

Then I heard footsteps outside.

You know the junkyard is Rachel and Chloe's kingdom. There was no way I was going to be scared. I knew from the sound that it wasn't you, so I thought someone else from the party passed out until morning, like me. I wasn't exactly in the mood for a morning recap, so I thought I'd just wait until they leave, then flit back to the loving family nest.

The footsteps shambled away. I threw a couple of darts at the board, so that I wouldn't stick them into my temples. Finally, I got out of the shack and began walking home. My nose was in my phone. Walking didn't really feel good, so I was contemplating waking you up to come get me, the selfish bitch.

Anyway, never got the chance. I felt, or heard, someone behind me.

When I turned around, all I saw was his mask of a Bigfoot…

-Rachel exhales slowly-

That's gonna stick for a while…

So I stood there with my mouth open for like an hour. Meanwhile, the first thing this asshole did was slap my phone out of my hand. Really hated it. That got me going a bit. I should have grabbed like a brick, or an old toilet or something, but the genius that I am, I thought ripping his mask off would be like disarming him pretty much.

Nah.

I mean, it may have worked, if I actually managed, but he was taller and saw me coming.

-Rachel growls-

That motherfucker… Look what he did to my face. I just felt fire in my eye, and not the good kind. Everything went sideways, muffled, fading.

...The second time I woke up, I was on the train tracks, with my foot caught in the fucking points…

-Rachel sobs-

...When I felt the rails vibrate, heard them hum, it was the scariest moment of my life...

It wasn't like with Damon at all. I couldn't fight, Chloe. Couldn't free myself. Couldn't see the bastard. Just felt him watching. I called out to him, asked why, begged…

Then… the train pulled around the bend, and suddenly I knew I was going to die in that junk yard.

But just as I lost hope… I heard your stupid truck.

I don't know what happened next, exactly. I think I screamed. I saw your knife shine. I felt myself free and remember wondering if you'd sawed off my foot or something…

-Rachel laughs through sobs-

Then the train was thundering by so close, like death. And you held me, asking me what happened, what happened, what happened. I told you something, I guess. We got out of there. The bigfoot bastard was nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to take me to the hospital again, and I remember saying, "Are you a fucking ambulance, Chloe Price?"

I wanted to kiss you, so I made you pull over and I kissed you.

You took me home. Of course, I had to tell my father. So I guess I'll have to stay away from the junkyard for a while. I told you that you should, too, until we find that motherfucker and tie him to the train tracks.

You said sure and left me at home, and went straight fucking back there, you idiot.

"Not straight there," you said, when you came back again later. "I stopped by home and stole a gun from step-ass first."

Unfortunately, you didn't shoot any bigfoots.

But you did bring my phone back... and this stupid pirate eye-patch, which I'm wearing now as I record this.

I love you, Chloe Price.


	6. Entry 6: August 6, 2012. 8:32PM

Recorded: 8.6.12 8:32PM Length: 3m46s

Someone hates me, Chloe.

I can't stop thinking about that. It seems so… strange.

-Rachel imitating Chloe's voice-

"Victoria Chase hated your guts since the minute you set foot in Arcadia Bay, Rach."

Yeah, but we're not exactly talking about dosing tea with muscle relaxants here. And besides, if it was Victoria, I'd beat the shit out of her for sneaking up on me like that.

No, this guy wanted me splattered all over the rails. Would have succeeded, too, if it wasn't for you… Why, though? What the hell did Rachel Amber do to him? I'm just a student at the fancy art school. Didn't bomb anybody's country. Didn't break anyone's heart that I know of… recently… I can't figure it out. I don't hate anybody. I try not to be an asshole to anybody. I try to give everyone a chance. I might smash you with a two by four in the heat of the moment, or, like, burn a forest down, but I don't plan these things.

This motherfucker, though, he planned it. Mask, rope. Mask means he's afraid of being recognized, right? Means we know him. So he's from around here. You don't suppose it's Damon Merrick, do you? Nobody's heard from him in over two years. I wonder what happened to him. Can't imagine he'd still be mad about that two by four. And anyway, he almost killed me that time. You'd think we were even.

Can it actually be someone from Blackwell? Could it be someone who was at the bonfire party? Shit, that just gives me goose bumps. I mean half of those creative kids are bristling with psychiatric problems and are on drugs, but I can't imagine any of them hating me that much...

I guess I could also have been targeted because I'm the DA's daughter. After all, dad's been cracking down on Arcadia Bay drug trade ever since we moved here. Not exactly fair, since I don't exactly support the drug war... But he probably made plenty of enemies.

You notice how he hasn't touched Frank, though? Everyone knows Frank deals, and dad had a file on him for years. Yet he's still out there on the beach every day. I bet father is letting him off the hook for what he did for us during that whole Damon mess. I wonder how much longer the gratitude is going to last...

…He called, by the way. Frank… News travels fast in Arcadia Bay. Said he was going to ask around...

-Rachel sighs-

Chloe, what am I going to do about Frank?

-Silence-

Anyway, the cops put the yellow tape around American Rust, but don't worry. No one's taking our secret hideout away. I promise, I'll get dad to have them remove it, or personally set the thing on fire, if he won't. Just as soon as it's safe.

Meanwhile, I'm under house arrest. There's even a police car parked out front. So... don't come around here with a gun again... I don't want some idiot to shoot you on my porch.

You know, Price, this black eye reminds me of you. It hurts, but… I kind of like it. I hope you're not out there playing detective, or The Punisher, by yourself. It's not that I'm concerned for your safety. I just don't want you to find the bastard without me.

-Rachel laughs-

Can you tell I'm a little giddy? Am I taking this a little too well? Somebody just nearly murdered me with a freight train. Should I be in shock? Or is this shock? Honestly, when dad told me mom wasn't my real mom, it hurt more. I'm afraid this is going to wear off, and I'll live in the closet for the rest of my life.

Or maybe being a little crazy has its perks sometimes.

Until next time, Chloe Price. Rachel Amber, out.


	7. Entry 7: August 7, 2012. 1:09PM

Recorded: 8.7.12 1:09PM Length: 5m16s

-Rachel talking in a soft voice-

Hello, Chloe Price.

Remind me to ask you what the hell you were doing at the junkyard at five in the morning.

News Flash: House arrests suck. Especially when moms materialize out of thin air every time you try to get out of your room. I literally had to convince her I was going back to sleep in the middle of the day, just so she would go and fill a tub for her daily bath. This cleared the path for Special Agent Amber's mission to raid the DA's office. You know, he still never changed his code. Because he loves me, I guess.

-Rachel whispers loudly-

Anyway, I'm in here now. It's hella weird in here. I keep feeling like I'm not in my house anymore. God, it's been so long since I've been in this room… In fact, Price, I believe it's been longer for me, than for you.

-Rachel chuckles-

Oh, man, I remember dad had an absolute fit. And Eliot Hampden? I can't believe he followed you. What a creep. If you ask me, they let him off easy with that expulsion.

Hey, was this Best Dad award here back then, too? I bought it at the Dollar Store after my dad's heroics on Mt. Hood. By the way, we're totally still going, right, Price? Aw, look at all the family pictures on the desk. Isn't that lovely?

All right. Focus, Rachel. You're looking for clues here.

-Sounds of things being shuffled, drawers being opened and closed-

Ugh. Nothing here, but useless junk.

Nothing on Damon Merrick. He's not on the map of Arcadia's seedy underbelly, either. It does seem like he skipped town for good. Frank is still up on there, though, along with a few skeevy dudes I've never seen before.

Found a file on someone named Richard Follower, but he's not on the map. Let's see what it says.

-Sound of pages being turned-

Holy shit. Drugs, extortion, assault, illegal gambling, murder. Looks like Damon 2.0. It says he's out of Seattle, though. What's he doing in dad's files? Known local associates: none. Suspected: Frank Bowers, Sheldon Pike. Does Frank know this guy? He could be in pretty big trouble with my dad right now…

But if this Richard Follower character is the guy who's after me, maybe the house arrest and the cops outside are not so bad…

Oh shit, speaking of which. I better get out of here, before one of them spots me through the window.

Wait, what the fuck is this? Did you see yesterday's Beacon? Bigfoot sighting at the Overlook. Is this some kind of a joke? Also, the world is ending on Christmas or something, because Mayans. Cool. Maybe the Vortex Club will throw an End of the World party. Invitations only, of course. Wanna be my date?

-Rachel whispers-

Anyway, to be continued. And you better return my call soon, Chloe Price!

-Rachel speaking in a loud voice-

Coming, mom!


	8. Entry 8: August 7, 2012. 6:59PM

Recorded 8.7.12 6:59PM Length: 3m38s

Chloe Price is kind of scary when she's on the warpath. And hot. Mom said that. The scary part. Not the hot part. That was me. Though, I didn't say that to her. Or to you… Yet.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, so you finally showed up. Wild-eyed, starving and smelling of the swamp. And weed.

Turns out you spent the last 24 hours tracking down and interrogating every kid who was at the bonfire party. Which I kind of gathered already, from all the panicky texts I received.

"Rachel, please tell your lunatic friend to stay the fuck away from me."

"Rache, that girl is scary. I don't want to see her again."

"Tell Price, if she pulls a gun on me again, she's going to jail for the rest of her life."

Chloe, your trouble is you think everybody lies. Which they do, you're right. But not all the time.

You seemed pretty down to bring no new clues, so I told you about the raid of the DA's office. You didn't think much of my drug lord theory.

According to career criminal Chloe Price, if it was the drug cartels, I'd be kidnapped and used for leverage, instead of tied to the rail.

"There would probably be more than one guy," said the gritty, chain-smoking former hitwoman, her voice distorted, so as to conceal her identity. "They would not wear a stupid bigfoot mask, and they would not be scared away by an 18-year-old in a rusty truck."

Every cannon ball landing amidships, Captain Price, aside from that last one.

Chloe Price is kind of scary when she's on the warpath, or driving.

-Rachel laughs-

OK, OK. I take that back. You're an excellent driver.

Still, dismantling my theory and proving that the parent-defying raid was a waste of time perked you up a bit. That and mom's soup.

-Rachel sighs-

We hung out in my room for a bit after, but you were only half there, I could tell. Batteries recharged, you couldn't wait to get back out in the field. Or the woods. With the stupid house arrest, I knew I could not be of any help. Also, I knew you had something on your mind that you weren't telling me. So I sent you off with my blessings.

Better not make me regret it, Chloe Price.

-Long silence-

Ugh, Chloe, this town was already getting on my nerves. Now it sends murderous apes. When are we going to take the hint and blow this joint?

Oh, P.S.

Before you left, I did ask you about what made you show up at the junkyard at five in the morning... You were hella cagey about it at first. Then you got blushy. Then you started crying and squeezing the life out of me with your hugs. You made me cry, too, you bitch. But it was nice.

In between all that, I managed to piece together that you dreamed something that made you jump in the truck and haul ass. But you flat out refused to tell me what it was. One day you'll be drunk, and I will strike again, Chloe Price. But meanwhile, it's nice to know someone out there is looking out for me.


	9. Entry 9: August 8, 2012. 10:32AM

Recorded: 08.08.12 10.32AM Length: 2m3s

Diane, it's 10:30AM, August 8th, 2012. I am entering the town of Arcadia Bay, Oregon.

It's a quaint fishing village located on the Oregon Coastal Highway, directly on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, some sixty miles west of Portland. There is a picturesque lighthouse across the water to my left, which seems to be functional, unlike the rest of the town. The port area has seen much better days, and it is not certain how this place manages to stay afloat. Hypothesis: lumber and drugs.

On my right, on top of the wooded hill, stands some sort of a fort, or maybe a monastery. Or perhaps a Juvenile Prison. Another source of income for Arcadia Bay? Will find out later.

The temperature outside my rented sedan is a balmy 88 degrees. The day - partly cloudy.

Just ahead is the diner, The Two Whales. This is where I am meeting Sheriff Chloe Price. From here, after a helping of famous waffles and a refill of my coffee thermos, we are supposed to proceed to Arcadia Bay Medical Center, to examine the body of the 18-year-old Rachel Amber, rumored to have been an exceptional beauty, loved by all.

Sadly, Diane, that beauty is now lost forever, as Ms. Amber was murdered with a freight train two days ago. I know what you're thinking. Is this another victim of the Railroad Bigfoot? I don't want to say anything too soon, but I have a… feeling about this town.

Of course, this case would have been stuck in the local police archives for all eternity, if not for a most lucky circumstance. You see, Diane, the train dragged the mangled body of our beauty queen across the state lines. The providence, it seems, is on our side.

There's the strapping blue-haired sheriff waving to me from the window now. Time to go to work.

-Rachel imitates the noise of a tape recorder being turned off-

Price, I'm going crazy over here. Where you at?


	10. Entry 10: August 8, 2012. 11:23AM

Recorded: 8.8.12 11:23AM Length: 14s

Chloe, if I ever don't answer 17 of your calls, I'm either dead, unconscious, or tied up. So you better be one of those three right now.

-Rachel cries-

Oh, fuck. I hope not. Where are you?


	11. Entry 11: August 8, 2012. 7:15PM

Recorded: 8.8.12 7:15PM Length: 6m51s

-Rachel takes a deep breath-

Hello, Chloe Price.

I called Frank. He didn't see you. Didn't hear from you.

I called Joyce. She had no idea.

I even called Nathan Prescott. He was surprised, and of course he hasn't seen you, since you questioned him at gunpoint yesterday, but I got a real weird feeling from talking to him. Not that he was lying, just… I don't know. Nathan's got a lot weirder lately. He's either taking something really heavy, or it's the opposite, and he's skipping his meds. It wasn't so long ago that we hung out like once a month. Now, though, even his… voice is different, and I don't just mean late puberty. Gives me the willies...

...Anyway, Frank told me to stay put, that he would ask around. Again. That I was not, under any circumstances, to come see him.

Yeah… Thanks, Frank, but... that wasn't gonna work for me. I wasn't going to keep serving time at home, while you're lying in some ditch, or tied to a rail somewhere.

Unfortunately, I don't have an ex-vet step-douche to steal a gun from, and a nail file is not exactly a knife, but there was a can of pepper spray in my emergency kit, so I took that. It's supposed to work on bears. Will it work on a Bigfoot?

Chloe, if the motherfucker did anything to you, this pepper spray is going to be the least of his problems.

A proud graduate of the Chloe Price Workshop of Breaking out of Parental Prison, I made short work of my bedroom window and the downspout. It was kind of a close call with the cop posted outside, since there's like fifteen feet of open roof between my room and the gutter, but I'm a ninja, so of course I managed. Also, that useless guard may have been dosing.

From there, I ran all the way to the junkyard, then started bawling like an upset child when I got there. Oh, the floodgates! Dramatic Rachel is fucking dramatic again. I guess I thought I was going to find you there, where you found me, only I was going to be too late…

-Long silence-

Anyway, there was no one and nothing at the junkyard, just the yellow police tape, untouched. I checked the shack, to see if you've been there recently and maybe left some clues, but everything there was the same as I remembered. Looked in the mirror while I was there, and of course, most of the makeup I'd put on earlier to hide the black eye was gone after my weeping marathon. So I said fuck it and put the eyepatch on instead.

From there, the only place I could think of going on foot was Frank's. So that's where I went…

-Rachel sighs-

I guess Frank actually meant it when he said I should not come see him today.

It was probably between two and three o'clock when I got to the beach. The sun was hanging high. The old fishing boats on the sand looked like beached whales. I was about to die of heat in my clever black disguise, so when I heard the hum of Frank's AC, all I could think of was plunging into that cool air like a pool. So in I plunged, through the door without knocking, and walked in on a meeting of Sketch Central Board of Directors.

You know you're in a bad spot if Frank Bowers seems like an accountant next to these other guys. There were four of them, besides Frank. One guy I didn't know. Both of those douche nozzles from our adventure at the mill, and worst of all, the bozo from my dad's file: Richard Follower. Big. Cold. Looked at me like I was street trash. Actually, they all stared at me for a good minute.

Finally, Frank - or should I call him Oscar now? - goes, "Shop's closed, idiot. Come back later."

Yeah, that almost worked. Not really. Apparently, these guys have been watching Frank for a while, and saw me frequenting the joint. So much for the disguise and the eyepatch. Shit. Who else knows? Could it be that you know, Chloe Price?

Anyway, long story short, these guys were after Frank's stash. And not the pharmaceutical kind. There was a lot of talk about Damon and the money he owed, and how Frank seems to get cushy treatment from a certain DA, etcetera. Boring, scary stuff. Meanwhile, the two skeevy douchebags from the mill were eyeballing me the entire time, like they're about to remember who I was. Thankfully, it didn't come to that, but also, it didn't need to. Once Follower threatened me and Pompidou, Frank's goose was cooked. I was glad, too.

We all went outside to watch Frank dive under the RV and come back like an hour later with a duffel bag full of cash. Hugs all around, and somehow nobody got shot. I guess they prefer Frank alive as a cash cow. Also, I didn't spray anybody or hit them with a frying pan, so that may have had something to do with it. Am I getting less crazy in my old age? Or is it just that I don't care about Frank as much?

Case in point: it was sad to see them rob Frank, not only because Frank is a good guy, but also because that was the score that could have gotten me and you out of this shithole. Remember that idea I mentioned I had, about getting a lot of money fast? Well, that got cashed out this afternoon.

I was frustrated, but more concerned with Chloe Price's whereabouts. Frank, though, was straight up pissed. Nothing good was going to come out of sticking around, so I left him there and walked over to the Whales to check with Joyce, without showing how worried I was. Pretty sure I did fine - Rachel Amber still got it - but your mom didn't have any news.

I sat down in our booth, to catch my breath and ponder if maybe you found out about Frank and just skipped town on your own.

That's when I got the text. From your number.

-Rachel exhales slowly-

"If you want to see Chloe again, come to the lighthouse alone at 10PM. I will trade you for her."

-Rachel whispers-

Hang in there, Chloe Price. I'm coming.


	12. Entry 12: August 8, 2012. 9:17PM

Recorded: 8.8.12 9:17PM Length: 7m28s

-Rachel panting-

…Fuck… I ran all the way here from town… Bad idea. Gotta catch my breath.

After I got that text, I couldn't just sit in that diner, waiting, with Joyce telling me every five minutes that it's no big deal. That you ghost her all the time.

So I went out and just walked the streets, mumbling like a lunatic. Even that homeless lady who lives behind the diner tried to, like, comfort me. What was it she said?

-Rachel speaking in a gruff voice-

"You have the spark, girl. Don't let them bring you down."

So I stopped and talked to her for a bit, and even shared with her the mini I got at that liquor store across the street from the Whales. But then I freaked out that I was going to be late, and took off at a gallop in the middle of a phrase. So even the homeless lady thinks I'm crazy now.

Shit. I'm too early. There's not a single car in this parking lot… Does that mean you're not here yet? Should I hide and wait? See what drives up? Set an ambush?

Ugh. Listen to Agent Amber over here. Ambush! What am I doing here, alone? Am I playing right into that asshole's hand? Should I call dad? Or the cops? And tell them what? That I got a creepy text from your number? What if he's not here? What if he's testing me, and you... get hurt if I don't play? He must have you, if he has your phone… Oh, Chloe…

But… what if Rachel Amber gets hurt? Or killed? Whom is that gonna help? The message said he wants to trade me for Chloe. If this is the Bigfoot guy, he wasn't playing pranks last time… Rachel, what the fuck are you doing here?

-Rachel clears her throat-

Chloe Price, if you find this phone and manage to access this log, pay no attention to the intro drama. I have this feeling that I should be going up the trail, so that's what I'm doing. I hope I find you up there. I'm leaving the recorder on, in case… something happens to me, and that bastard says something that will help ID him later. See you in a bit. Wish I had a better weapon than a can of pepper spray, but I guess it will have to do.

\- A long interval of muffled sounds of walking and wind-

-Rachel talking in a quiet voice-

Made it to the lighthouse. The place is deserted. The beam is on, but it feels like one of those prison camp searchlights. The one that will set off a machine gun if it finds you. Nothing but shadows here otherwise. Hella nice view over the bay, but also spooky as shit. I guess he meant it when he said 10 o'clock? I have half an hour to kill. I don't know if you can hear it, but there's this weird electric humming noise, which seems to be coming from that shack. I don't think I can stand it for 30 minutes. Maybe I'll build a fire.


	13. Entry 13: August 8, 2012. 9:41PM

Recorded: 8.8.12 9:41PM Length: 6m37s

Back. Fire always makes me feel better.

Where are you, Chloe? I swear if he laid a finger on you…

…What the hell… was that?

-Silence-

There it is again… The shack… Is it coming from the shack? Can you hear it? There's like, the usual machinery noise, but then there's... It's like a… kick?

-Rachel shouts-

Chloe? Chloe! Is that you? I'm here! Hold on, I need to find something to bust through this lock!

-Sounds of running-

Shit. There's like nothing here. The bench. The sign. The fucking lighthouse. There's nothing here. I bet Chloe would have found something, but all I'm good at is posing and quoting the dead white men.

-Rachel whispers-

I am Revenge, sent from the infernal kingdom, to ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, by working wreakful vengeance on thy foes.

-Muffled thuds-

Shit. Chloe, hold on! Wait a second. I can just call-

-Abrupt silence, then a man's voice-

Man: You're early.

Rachel: Who are you? What do you want from us?

Man: Me? I wanted you to not come. But they want you dead.

Rachel: Who wants me dead?

Man (laughing): We do.

Rachel: You're fucking crazy.

Man (shouting): Well, it's your fucking fault!

Rachel: Wait... who are you?

Man: We would rather not say.

Man: The voices. The shadows. The…

Man: Shut up, fool.

Rachel: Take off your mask, you piece of shit!

Man (laughing): There's no mask.

Rachel: You... said you would trade me for Chloe. So let her go.

Man: Once we deal with you. Your slave will not be harmed.

Rachel: She's not my slave.

-Sounds of running and panting-

Man: A torch. How symbolic. Fire against steel.

Rachel: I know Chloe is in that shack, and my dad is on the way here. You lose, asshole. Maybe if you turn around and run right now, you'll still have a chance.

Man: If he was, you'd want us to stay. Come. The ritual must be completed.

-Sounds of struggle. Rachel cries out-

Man (panting): Nice try, but your fire is extinguished.

Rachel: Fuck you, asshole.

Man: Ooh, what's that? Pepper spray? We're really afraid now.

-Sounds of brief struggle, followed by a distinct click of a lighter and a Whoosh of a spray can being discharged.

-Man screams wildly-

-Rachel shouts unintelligibly in rhythm with a barrage of thuds-

Man: Stop… Rachel. Please. Stop… They're gone.

Rachel: …What the fuck? Eliot? Eliot!? You motherfucker! I'm going to kill you!

Eliot: Please, Rachel. It wasn't me. I wasn't… me. I would never… hurt Chloe.

Rachel: Chloe! What did you do to her?

Eliot: She's tied up in the shack. I… wanted to prove to her that you would not come… That's all.

Rachel (screaming): You tied me to the fucking rails!

Eliot (crying): I'm sorry! I don't know how it happened. I don't even remember it! There were voices, whispers, I couldn't get away...

Rachel: I don't care. Set Chloe free right now. See if she wants to listen to your stupid story.

-The recording stops here-


	14. Entry 14: August 23, 2012. 6:10AM

Recorded: 8.23.12 6:10AM Length: 4m38s

Good morning, Chloe Price.

What have you been up to? Nothing good, I'd wager. Me? Oh, just hanging out. You know how it is. RA gotta party.

Oh, I did make it to Mount Hood, after all. Yeah. I'm… actually here right now. Just stuck my head out of the tent. My breath is pluming in front of my face, and my nose is getting cold, but you can't beat the view. Skies for days. Wispy clouds. Snow on the peak. The air is so clear, I feel like if I squint real hard, I will see the future. None of the Arcadia mists here, no trees towering above, and no sign of the lighthouse…

It feels so good to get away from… all that. To not talk, or even think about what happened. To live in a tent. Cook on a fire. Sleep in a sleeping bag…

-Rachel laughs-

I feel that old craziness creeping back in. The good kind. Like we slipped the bonds. Like everything is possible again. Like we're back under the streetlamp.

Feels like it can be done, Price! This life, away. Freedom. Happiness. So much... happiness... It's scary. Can it be real? Can it last? I wish...

-Unintelligible noises, then a sound of a zipper-

What?

Chloe's voice: Who are you talking to?

Rachel: You, Price. Rise and shine, sun is coming out.

Chloe: The view is pretty good from where I am, thanks.

Rachel(laughing): Get up, you lazy punk.

Chloe: What are you doing with that phone?

Rachel: Making a documentary. I will call it: "Candid Chloe: The Last American Badass."

Chloe: Give me that.

Rachel: Uh, no.

Chloe: You're not actually filming this, are you?

Rachel: Just the audio, so keep the moans to a minimum, OK?

Chloe: Shut up!

-Rachel laughs-

Rachel: Ow.

-Unintelligible noises-

Chloe: Seriously, you still recording?

Rachel: Yes, I am.

Chloe: Why?

Rachel: For my future memoir, of course.

Chloe: Well, you do have a hella story to tell. And if it makes you rich and famous...

Rachel: And now I have you on record, too.

Chloe: Great…

Rachel: Speaking of which, how about a quick interview?

Chloe: What? Come on, Rach. Can I just wake and bake?

Rachel: You can bake and spake. Outside.

Chloe groans.

Rachel: So, Chloe Price, is it? What are your thoughts on this trip?

Chloe: Really?

Rachel: Yes, really.

Chloe: Ugh. Well… it's been pretty nice, I guess.

Rachel: You've been here, sharing this tent with a certain Rachel Amber, for three days, is that correct?

Chloe: Yeah?

Rachel: Have you yet entertained the idea of murdering Ms. Amber?

Chloe: Well… No, but then she just now brought out this recorder for the first time, so…

Rachel: We'll edit that out later. So you feel like you're getting along fine.

Chloe(inhaling): Yeah. Sure.

Rachel: You have summited Mount Hood, haven't you?

Chloe: Yep.

Rachel: Any idea how?

Chloe(bursting into a fit of coughing laughter): Nope. None. Not with these lungs.

Rachel: Would you say it was... magical?

Chloe: I would say that.

Rachel: Would you carry Ms. Amber down the mountain, if she fell and broke her wrist?

Chloe: I mean, you don't need a wrist to walk...

Rachel: So that's a yes. Very good. Now, what would you say to going east from here, instead of west?

Chloe (exhaling): Rachel…

Rachel: Don't get sad, Chloe. I know we're not ready right this minute. But you can see it's possible, right? Us. On our own. Away from Arcadia Bay. You can feel it can be done.

Chloe:… Yes. Yes, it can be done.

Rachel: I thank you for your time.


	15. Entry 15: September 3, 2012. 7:02PM

Recorded: 9.3.12 7:02PM Length: 4m44s

Hello, Chloe Price.

Well, It's back to Arcadia Bay. Back to the House of Amber. Back to Jeremiah Blackwell's Asylum for the Lost Children for one last year. Summer's over.

If I'm honest, though (and I am most of the time), being back doesn't feel as shitty, as I thought it would.

Maybe it's because we finally had our talk. About our escape, I mean... Of course, you had to be this lame downer voice of reason and shut down my brilliant plan of driving across country, making a living by robbing rural banks and mail coaches. Instead, we agreed to ease up on party spending - to clarify: not the partying, just the spending - and save up. In a jar. In impenetrable safety of my room. Away from prying step-douches. Thank you for the trust, Chloe Price. I will do my best not to betray it. But then, you know the pirate law...

I will ride out the year at Blackwell, while sending photos to modeling agencies, which will hopefully lead to a gig in LA, which is where we're going, again, to start. Depending on how well that goes - and how can it go any way but spectacular? - we'll soon have enough money for the actual trip around the world.

I know. It sounds sort of rational and unexciting, as if someone swapped out Rachel and Chloe for, like, Brooke and Stella. Maybe that's why it will actually work...

Tobanga knows we've tried the other way and you were just too chicken-shit for it.

-Rachel laughs-

I'm kidding, Price! Don't hurt me!

In other news, our little spontaneous detour to the Overlook at Culmination State Park kind of creeped me out. Of course, it was my idea, but a rare bad one. That place is still, like, smoking in spots, I'm pretty sure. We were laughing, remembering our misadventures that day, but all the while I was thinking... Did I really... do that? Or was it you? I mean, I lit the spark, but who burned the prairie?

It's been three years, Chloe. Isn't it about time for life to find a way and... shit? What's it waiting for?

Oh, and by the way, no Bigfoots sighted at the Overlook.

Then, it was your turn to freak. The stupid truck broke down half a mile out of town, and we nearly went off into a ravine. No big deal. There was this thick-ass cedar we almost smashed into, pushing up right against your grill, like a big welcome back middle finger from Arcadia Bay to a couple of strays, who thought they could escape the maze.

You were just livid, and scared, and.. ashamed for some reason, but I felt like I was high or something. I hope you weren't too hurt by my grinning like a fool. I sort of... wanted to dance. I told you why. You managed to keep the stupid truck on the road, Price. We won.

We had to hike the rest of the way, and the entire way I kept thinking, "We're alive. We're together. Price is carrying the heavier pack. That psycho's been dealt with. Arcadia Bay can eat a bag of dicks. Is life... good?"

Shit. Something's definitely different, Chloe. Even the air feels... cleaner. Maybe that cold Mount Hood wind blew all the stale, boggy fumes away into the ocean for our return.

Anyway, today was that momentous date your step-fuhrer took the Madsen-Price family out to dinner at the Rue Altimore, to celebrate the official start of his reign as the Security Tzar of Blackwell. No expense was spared. Candles were lit. Joyce guilt-tripped you into going. No way to avoid. I got the picture. Two, actually. David in a three-piece. Joyce with a lace parasol. Chloe Price in a bow tie and a sailor suit.

So while you're destroying Lobster Thermidor over there on David's dime, I'll just spend my evening... embroidering. Yeah, don't worry about me.

Bon appetit, Chloe Price.


	16. Entry 16: September 4, 2012. 12:23AM

Recorded 9.4.12 12:23AM Length: 5m25s

Fuck.

Chloe, so when I say I'm going to embroider, what I really mean was, I went to see Frank. Just an FYI. Fuck.

We hung out for a bit. He was in a bad mood still, because of the money. He tried half-heartedly to get me to do some work on campus again, which I refused, then finally he proposed.

Yeah, Chloe. I mean, that's basically what he did.

Not to marry him. Not yet anyway. But apparently now that I'm an adult, and no prison sentence is attached to me, it occurred to Frank we should stop hiding and make our relationship official. And public. Can you imagine? I could. I wasn't entirely straight, either, so I may have actually seen the scenario unfold in front of my eyes.

Like a Beacon headline: FRANK BOWERS AND RACHEL AMBER. Local drug dealer and DA's daughter, a happy couple.

And the next thing I saw was myself, right at that moment, in Frank's RV, with Frank. And it was kind of a scary thing, Chloe. It was kind of a repulsive thing, actually…

-Rachel exhales-

Frank is a good guy. I know you don't want to hear this, and you probably never will, but I do care about Frank. So I tried to be as diplomatic as I could. I told him there was no way to make that work in a town like Arcadia Bay. But I guess he mixed some uppers with his beans, because he didn't get the hint at all.

Suddenly, he's pacing up and down talking about leaving Arcadia like we always wanted and driving to Cali. How the town is a shitshow now anyway, with that Seattle fuck running the drug trade and stealing his money, on and on, like he had been planning it for weeks.

So I tell him I have a year left at the school, and I should probably finish it, before doing anything as drastic as moving away.

It starts to dawn on him, through the drugs, by then. He's finally receiving that I'm not into the idea much, or at all.

Well, instead of changing the subject, or laughing it off, or whatever, he goes absolutely fucking ballistic. Starts screaming about everything he's done for me. About how I never loved him. About how I... sleep around. About that blood pact we made... Which was totally weird and not actually properly official, or anything... Then he got his knife out and started talking about killing his friend for me...

-Rachel exhales-

Fuck. Chloe, Frank said he... killed Damon. Is... that true? Did you… know?

What the fuck?

-Rachel cries-

Did you actually fucking know about this?

-Silence, then Rachel sighs-

At some point he must have realized from my face that I was fucking terrified, and he just… folded. Collapsed. Started cursing, crying, apologizing, you name it. He knew, though. His heart wasn't in it. I… saw the way open up and I bolted.

Got home and just sat on the bed, shaking, for a while. Probably for an hour now. Coming down isn't helping, either.

It would be really nice if you were here with me, Chloe Price, so I could fucking tell you everything about Frank, and look in your eyes when I ask you, but you're eating expensive seafood and sneaking wine sips still.

So it will have to wait. Till next life, maybe.

-Silence-

I wrote Frank a note, Chloe Price.

He's a good guy, and I was trying to be gentle, but… I'm never going back.

Fuck. It was such a good day, too.


	17. Entry 17: September 11, 2012. 4:21PM

Recorded: 9.11.12 4:21PM Length: 5m26s

Hello, Chloe Price.

I bring you most cordial greetings from Rachel Amber, Duchess of Milan, Comtesse de Monte Cristo, Guardian of the Flame of Arnor, etc., known since last week only as "Inmate 224."

You know, I was so excited to finally move out of the Tree House and into the dorms. You actually do, because I wouldn't shut up about it the entire way here from Mt. Hood. In fact, it may have annoyed you a tiny bit. Sorry.

Oh, to have a place of my own! With no one looking constantly over my shoulder, or listening to the sounds in my room, or peering into my eyes to see if I'm drunk or on drugs. A place away from fathers and obligatory family dinner talks a la king.

I wondered what I would feel to see my stuff boxed and being carried out of my room. I was kind of dreading I would start crying suddenly, or something stupid like that. But you know what? I nailed that test. Ended up struggling to stop myself from grinning the entire time, actually. Chloe, it totally felt like a dress rehearsal for breaking out of Arcadia Bay. And now I know for sure I'll be just fine, when we finally leave.

-Rachel sighs-

Of course, instead of freedom, I ended up in an even smaller cell.

I've been pretty much confined to quarters since that… thing with Frank.

Every time I had to leave my dorm this past week, for school, or… whatever, I would glimpse that stupid RV out of the corner of my eye, or hear Pompidou barking, or… just feel like I was being watched. It's been driving me insane.

Good thing we both had things to keep us busy. Me and you, Price. Not me and Frank. The idea of you sitting at that mess of a desk, studying, is about the only thing keeping me entertained right now. One of these days I'll have to come see it. And then I will distract the hella out of you.

-Rachel whispers-

You know I can…

-Rachel sighs-

Ugh. One day. Of course, your step-scumbag would probably have to, like, stroke out, before that ever happens now.

Chloe Price, on the off chance you and David somehow didn't become BFFs, after the inaugural feast of Italian cuisine, and with a slim hope you don't share all the latest news from your daily lives now, I will pretend to tell you what shit happened today at Blackwell… I'm trying to be funny here, but I haven't heard from you for, like, two full days, so… Maybe instead of studying, I should be imagining you sitting there sharpening your knife.

Anyway, onto the sad and educational tale of Rachel Amber, Inmate 224.

As you would no doubt guess, if I actually ever told you anything about me and Frank, he called me about a thousand times, until I finally blocked his number. So then this morning, I get a call from Nathan, who fucking tells me Frank is waiting for me in the parking lot. Can you believe that? And you know Nathan, so you know that's pretty far from all he tells me, or asks about. If you had your chips on "Rachel Amber does not paint a pretty picture of Frank Bowers for Nathan Prescott," go ahead and cash your winnings. Not only was I pissed, but I also had to think about damage control. I know you don't give a shit about what people say or think about you, but I'm not Chloe Price. I don't need to give Blackwell haters any ammo.

-Rachel groans-

I'm getting more pissed just thinking about it.

Long story short, I went down there and we had a fucking conversation. Frank was sober, to his credit, and Pompidou was sweet as always, but the exchange was pretty far from amicable. I basically told him that we're done, and that if he wanted to stay on friendly terms, he would need to leave me the fuck alone, and sure as hell never visit me at school again.

So clearly, I'm having a shitty day already, but then it gets worse. Because of course it does. As I bid the scruffy duo my unceremonious farewells and turn to go back in, who do you think I see standing fifty feet away with a fucking camera? David fucking Madsen, step-paparazzi extraordinaire! Fuck! I was so shocked, I must have blacked out, because I can't even remember how I got to the dorm.

-Long silence-

So now I'm back in my room, wondering when your next fight with David is scheduled, so that he has the opportunity to pull the ace of Rachel+Frank out of his mustache…

Ugh. No. Fuck it, Chloe. I'm calling you right now.


	18. Entry 18: October 7, 2012. 9:04PM

Recorded: 10.7.12 9:04PM Length 4m56s

Good evening, Chloe Price.

After the way I ended my last message, you must have wondered where I've been these three weeks. Well, I haven't been murdered, and this world has not ended in fire yet. That's still a few months away... Thus spake the Mayans...

No, the truth is... I didn't know what to say.

Frank's been out of sight for the most part, so things have calmed down around here. I've been able to, you know, get out of my room and creep around campus.

The... story I spun when I called you that time - about doing a job for Frank to earn some extra money for our escape - that was... instinct, reflex, automated defenses, I don't know...

I mean, it worked well. Robbed David of his big reveal, and proved once again Rachel Amber's commitment and dedication to Chloe Price. Two birds with one stone! Though... it feels like I killed at least a dozen...

See, Price, I keep thinking how that story I told you was pretty much the same story I told Nathan Prescott. Actually, I made it up for him first, when he called me on Frank's orders. And then I turned around and pasted the same fucking lie into the conversation with my... Chloe. What do you make of that? What does that make me?

-Rachel sighs-

Onto the bad news now. Suddenly, there's a rumor circulating at Blackwell that Rachel Amber is a drug mule. Fucking Nathan.

-Rachel imitates Nathan's voice-

"Come on, Rachel. How long have we known each other? You know I'd never rat you out!"

Well, only two people heard my spiel, and I don't think Chloe Price would share it with her stepfather!

Who, by the way - the step-douche - has been following me around ever since. If I see him take one more picture of me, I swear... I'm going straight to Wells and getting his ass fired.

Ugh. Thanks a lot, Frank. All is fair in love and war, is it?

How do they handle this shit in whatever universe I'm communicating with through these logs? Fuck.

-Rachel chuckles-

The funny thing is, in between all of this, I've been letting all the Photography kids take consensual pictures of me. Mostly clothed.

With the condition that I get to use the shots for my portfolio, too.

Well, not all of the Photography kids, technically. Victoria said she couldn't be bothered with "unimaginative work," and... Nathan's style doesn't really match what I'm trying to accomplish. Not that I would let him anywhere near me, after what he pulled.

Evan's done some really brilliant work. Hayden, too, if you can believe it. Even Stella has some talent. Daniel is not very good at photography, if I'm honest, but his drawings are pretty sweet, so I let him draw my portraits. I mean, your truck is still dead, so we're limited to hanging in the vicinity, and there's no play this semester. What else am I going to do?

Too bad your friend Max isn't around to take my photos. I hear she's pretty good. What if she's like a famous photographer by now, and a shot from her would all but guarantee a well-paying gig? What if she's the key to our success?!

Anyway, I'll probably show you what I got tomorrow. I think I'm pretty close to having enough quality stuff to start querying places.

Otherwise, it's been your standard school life. Same old Blackwell. Probably not going to be recording much, or at all.

Ugh. It sucks that there's no play. I could use a little stage drama to forget about the real one. Although... there's the Halloween Bash coming up at the Vortex Club. Dana's been all over me about dressing up. Wanna be my date? We can go as Prospera and Ariel! I have those costumes hanging in my closet at home. I bet we'll still fit...

Or... you know... whatever you want.

Peter Pan and Captain Hook, Callamastia and Elamon, Barbie and Ken... What? You know you love your dolls. I'll just ask you tomorrow, before making any suggestions.

Time flies, Chloe Price. Soul cries. Love dies. Check out those sick rhymes.

Repair that stupid truck of yours. We'll be out of here before you know it.


	19. Entry 19: October 21, 2012. 3:54AM

Recorded: 10.21.12 3:54AM Length: 3m14s

-Rachel slurring the words-

Well, ahoy there, Chloe Price.

The party was... fabulous, thank you very much. Probably would have been better, had you been there. Or maybe not. Maybe you'd make a scene, punch someone in the dick, and, like, tag a mirror with something morbid... Which, I guess... might have made it better... I don't know.

Either way, I suspect your decision. Rrrespect, I mean. Sort of. You bitch. Just texted you the same. For your future cross-reference. It's… uh… is it really 3:51? October the 21st, of the year of our Lord 2012.

You do realize I had to change my costume because of you? It all worked out, though. I ended up going as the Phoenix. Had this old set hanging around from a Junior High production of the Phoenix and the Turtle. I guess I don't grow anymore, because it still fits perfectly. All the boys said so. And some girls, too.

-Rachel laughs-

What else happened, before I forget? Hmm, well… No Frank, so no drugs. Obviously, Nathan was there, but I'm not talking to that snitching little bastard ever again. As a result of this embargo, I ended up consuming an inordinate amount of Pinot Noir. The prospect of the morning frightens me, Chloe Price.

Also, skipped the pool. Didn't want to soak my feathers. Especially after I saw Taylor throw up in the water... Ugh. What else? Some minor dancing... Drinking... Some really stimulating conversation...

Oh yeah, there was this new photography teacher there, Mark Jefferson. Pretty cute, Price, for an old guy. He's also a bit of a celebrity in the photo world, apparently. Won some awards named after people. I bet your Max knows who he is. Anyway, he was super into me, from the get go. Quoted Whitman. I hit him back with Ginsburg. No big deal. I'm not in his class, so… The road is clear.

-Rachel giggles-

In other news, I got a reply from one of the agencies I queried...

Rejected.

"...Not what we're looking for at this time, but will keep on file."

I guess they're not looking for exceptional beauty with inexhaustible depth. Why would I want to work with someone like that, anyway? Any… way?

Anyway. I think I better go pass out now. I may need you to pick me up tomorrow… or later today, actually. How about breakfast at the Whales at 1PM? 2 o'clock? Call me like 12:45, OK?

Goodnight, Turtle Price.

-There's a noise of things tumbling, then the recording ends-


	20. Entry 20: November 7, 2012. 10:04PM

Recorded: 11.07.12 10:04PM Length: 4m2s

Hello, Chloe Price…

How are you? How's that GED coming along?

I… uh, was going to record something, because I thought I should, you know? It's been a while. So I opened the app and saw that recording from after the Halloween party, which I had zero recollection of.

-Rachel laughs-

Oh my god. I was so drunk that night. Couldn't make out half of what I was saying. Towards the end of it, I started making appointments, because I guess I thought I was actually leaving the real you a message, rather than to the Phantom Chloe of Rachel's Shame. Probably going to erase that whole thing, or, like, keep it as a lesson to future generations.

-Rachel sighs-

I bet from listening to these... logs, the future generation dickheads will deduce Rachel Amber to be a seriously sad emo kid. Listen, you clowns. I save all the good for the real Chloe, and my friends. And that's like ninety-five percent of my life. The five percent I don't share is what ends up on this phone. Anyway, mind your own fucking business.

Chloe, there's something hanging over me. Like a fucking anvil, or a guillotine, or a hundred tons of black well water. There's a rope, and a candle burning... And no matter where I run, this thing follows me around. What's worse: there's nowhere to run. I'm stuck here. I've been stuck here for millions of years. Arcadia Bay is like a snow globe. You can be a king or a queen here; you can find love and be happy, but... you're never getting past that glass wall. Ever. And no one outside of it has heard of you or gives a shit.

Is that pretty close to what you were feeling before we met?

-Rachel groans-

Ugh. Listen to Rachel Amber comparing Chloe Price's mental state after losing everyone she ever loved, to her own pathetic depression, caused by receiving a few rejection letters. Such class.

-Rachel imitates James Amber-

"The choppy waters of adolescence."

The first one said I was too short. Rachel Amber is not good enough for someone, because she's five fucking five. Can you imagine that? I honestly never, in a million years.

The second one said I was actually too old… Did we have too much fun these last three years, Chloe? Is it not the years, but the mileage? Anyway, too old at 18. Fuck you, too.

Then there was one asking for a few pieces without the "ornaments." I mean, that can't actually be real, can it? That's like, gotta be Arcadia Bay messing with me. This is Dante's Inferno, the Divine fucking Comedy, and everything around me is there to make me suffer, even… the happy things, because shit hurts more after happiness. How else do you explain all this? I must have been a real evil bitch in the previous life.

-Rachel sighs-

I don't know. Maybe the student photos are just not good enough for the real world? Anyway, they're gone. The rejection slips, not the photos. I burned them all. In a trashcan. Arcadia Bay did not go whoosh, though, unfortunately.

You know, Chloe Price, no one talks about Eliot. Not at Blackwell, not at home, not even us. Was that real? Is anything real? Are we?


	21. Entry 21: November 17, 2012. 11:18PM

Recorded 11.17.12 11:18PM Length: 7m6s

-Rachel speaking in a gruff voice-

November 17th, 2012. Log of Captain Rachel Amber of the "Arthur Gordon Pym," bound for the Bay of Arcadia.

The weather's been shit. Adrift in the mists. Out of food, water and things to do. This morning, we ate the first mate, Chloe Price. With the last of the beans.

-Rachel laughs-

Weird day, Chloe. Restless. Tossed some old clothes. Went for a walk around town. I bet good Arcadians rake their brains for possible reasons every time they see the beautiful Rachel Amber beating her boots against the sidewalks of their shitty old town. Somebody should let them know it's only because she doesn't own a car. Seriously. Her friend has a truck, but it's been out of commission for like three months. And her friend is too busy studying to repair it. Or to wander along with her.

Though I do manage to distract you every now and then, like I did yesterday…

Anyway... waved hi to my buddy, the homeless lady. She sends regards, I think. Though she may have also shouted "Fuck the Prescotts." I was going to stop by the Whales, but then I remembered how Joyce interrogated me the last time I did, and thought better of it. She's seriously shook up about your studying lately. I think she suspects you're on acid. I kinda do, too.

So, skipped past the diner. Kept walking, wind in my left ear. Turned to face it at the water tower, and ended up at the beach, of course. Was it random? Honestly, I don't know. Not enough space in Arcadia Bay to avoid places... Yeah, that sounded kinda lame... Either way, the parking lot was empty. No RVs, cars, bikes or helicopters. What we had was a beach at a remote little town completely deserted on a shitty day in November. Will wonders never cease, Price?

The tide was high. The water was pretty much in the parking lot. Sort of breezy. Gloomy. I was about to turn around and call it another day well-spent, when I heard it. The whale call. Just rolling on the tips of the waves... And then I saw her. All alone about 300 feet off. Thar' she blows! It was beautiful, Chloe Price, but also eerie as fuck. Especially since the next thing that whale did was hit the beach right in front of me like a giant torpedo. Photo of the day: Beached whale. Soaked Rachel Amber. Arcadia Bay, Oregon.

-Rachel starts speaking faster-

But wait, there's more. While I'm standing there gasping "What the fuck," a car pulls up. Not going to waste my time making you guess who it was, because it was none other than our friends, the esteemed skeevy douchebag duo. I couldn't believe it, Chloe. It was a pretty ordinarily shitty November day in Arcadia, then suddenly there's this massive beached whale, I'm soaked in ocean water, and a pair of nemesis skeevy guys are inviting me to their piece of shit sedan to get warm and dry.

I tell them to fuck off, of course, but they don't seem to be hearing the emphasis. I think about calling for help, but then I get this flashback to the Eliot Bigfoot encounter at the junkyard and pull out the knife you gifted me, instead. They dislike it. Strongly. Also, they're not running away in fear. A bit of a dance routine ensues, interpretive style, but no one really gets hurt. We all get back to our starting places a bit more tired. Still it neither looks, nor feels good to Rachel Amber.

Thankfully, Arcadia Bay seems to have filled its daily quota at that point, because behind the douchebags, that stupid RV pulls into the lot. Out comes Frankie B.

The skeevies back away, with promises of bountiful fortunes. They're also stupid enough to try and conduct whatever business it was with Frank that had brought them to the beach in the first place. Frank takes in the view and beats the shit out of them both, instead. They crawl back into their junker and drive away, but I'm not looking over my shoulder for these idiots ever again.

I… told my dad about what happened, and he said these guys are going away for good. Good riddance.

-Rachel sighs-

Frank looked like shit, Chloe. I was glad to see him, of course, all things considered, but he was in a bad way. Drunk. High. I don't know. Not friendly, either. His RV was never pristine, but it didn't use to be such a shithole. For the record, literally, I'm not taking the blame for that. He's a grown man, right?

Anyway, he drove me back to the dorms. We didn't talk much, but as I was getting off, you know what he said to me?

"You don't love Chloe, Rachel, and one day, you will leave her like you left me," quoth the Frank.

Out of the blue like that. Have you two... talked? Ugh. Hella note to end a weird day on, which is why I didn't end it there, I guess.

I went in and changed into dry clothes, and joined a bunch of Blackwell kids for a trip to the Bean Hip. That where I called you from. And told you none of this.

It was an evening of weed and latte and subdued guitar music.

Then that Photo professor from Blackwell showed up. I bumped into him at the counter. He bought me a latte as thanks. We ended up chatting, and somehow I told him about the rejection slips I've been getting. He couldn't believe such travesty. Moreover, to restore cosmic order, he felt it was his duty to offer me a photo session. He would even venture to forward a resulting photo or two to some of his industry contacts, with Rachel Amber's approval, of course. Though, with the school and all, he would not be free until the winter break. So I set up like an appointment for after Christmas. With Mark Jefferson. Wow.

And that's how this weird ass day finally ended, Chloe Price.

Rachel Amber, soon to be on the covers, out.


	22. Entry 22: April 21, 2013. 7:44PM

Recorded: 4.21.13 7:44PM Length: 12m4s

...I thought I could do it, Chloe Price. I was wrong. Twice. But maybe the third time is going to be the charm. I remembered I had these… monologues recorded on here. God, it seems so long since my last recording. Almost six months, during which I never told you a thing about the photo teacher or the sessions. Why? I guess I knew even then.

OK, so the first try was me writing the actual letter. I thought the handwriting would add character, you know? Make it seem more personal. Make you want to keep it, maybe. Stain it with maidenly tears, and all that. Took me about fifteen minutes to write it. It was a single page. Rachel the Succinct. Ripped it out of the notebook, thought it sounded pretty good. Decisive.

We were meeting at the junkyard, so I got there an hour early, to prepare. Preparing meant I read the letter and thought it was a fucking nightmare. I mean, the lies had… purpose, but I just… couldn't. Took the pen and scratched half of the letter right out. Then a couple more words. And a couple more. Then I reread the first sentence, which sounded so fucking weird that I was about to set it ablaze. But just then I heard your stupid truck, so I panicked, crumpled it up and binned it instead. Oh shit, which means it's still there. Remind me to get rid of it the next time I'm at the shack. Hah, yeah right. "Remind me."

The second try was earlier today at your place. Ugh, that was… much heavier than I expected. Or hoped. I finally managed to tell you about the rejection letters I've been getting. Of course, you were being your usual Chloe.

"Fuck all that, Rachel. They're just stupid. People are dumb. They just don't know how amazing you are. But it will definitely happen. If there's like an ounce of justice and sense in this fucked up universe."

And I said, if there had been an ounce left, God poured it into a shot and took it millions of years ago.

And then I casually let it slip that speaking of amazing, I may have recently met someone who is kind of amazing and might change my life for the better. I swear I didn't even make it sound like anything...

And you… just froze. You just turned to... chalk. I've never seen you that way. Fuck, I can't even… think straight about it right now. It was... like you saw a ghost. Or more like… you saw the future, and everybody died. So I swerved away. You like said something about a… stain on your jeans? I made a joke. About jeans. You… changed. We pretended I never said what I said for a couple of hours, until you finally drove me back to the dorms.

-Rachel sighs-

I should have done it. Should have pushed. Should have hurt you right then. I owe you that much. Because the longer I wait, the worse it's going to hurt. And you don't deserve it. Maybe. I don't know. I thought I knew. That's why I put all that stuff in the letter. Not because it was true, but because I wanted it to be true, which means the same thing. But it's still a lie, and I don't want to lie. Not to you.

Chloe, I… I can't stop thinking about him. I don't really know how it happened, and I'm not going to tell you these details here. Mark is... it's like he's from another world, even though he's actually from Arcadia Bay. He grew up here, it turns out, and like twenty years ago he felt exactly what we felt, only he actually managed to escape. You know what he did? He took his camera and he hopped on a freight train like we did, only instead of getting off at the Overlook he stayed all the way to Seattle. What are the odds, right? It all happened before. It will all happen again. Hell, we may have rode the same train car that took Mark Jefferson to freedom all those years ago.

Obviously, it wasn't all rainbows and unicorns. He doesn't like to go into the darker stuff, but I can feel it's there. But like, you expect that. You run away from home, you expect to pay the price. The ferryman gotta get paid, you know? He'll tell me all about it one day, I'm sure. If he feels like it. When he feels like it. For now, when we talk, he mostly listens. And I just find myself going on and on about my childish troubles.

I'm sorry, Chloe. I told him about you, and us, and Eliot, and Frank. He's so wise. Sometimes he'll say something, and it's like he went back in time and picked the perfect response for the situation. Like, the other day he said to me, "It sounds like you want to escape, because nothing is keeping you here. Chloe though, wants to escape, because everything is keeping her here." That made so much sense, you know?

He also got this weird mentor relationship with Nathan. At first I couldn't stand it, but then I kind of began to see where he was coming from. Nathan's family is really fucked up, and instead of getting him the help he needs, they keep fucking stressing him out with this scion of the family bullshit. The guy needs to be sent to a retreat for a year, away from school, drugs and parents. I mean, we used to hang out. He was an OK dude. He really was. You use to... hate him less back in the day, right? Yeah, he's weird on a good day, but who isn't in this fucking town? Anyway, I'm not going to be Nathan's BFF suddenly, but I might cut him some slack here and there. He's been trying to apologize in his own way for that snitching episode.

-Silence-

I can hear you say, "If this guy really managed to break free, what the hell is he doing back at Blackwell?"

I actually asked him that once. He said he liked teaching, and that he wanted to slow down and just work the art without worrying about deadlines, and sort of joked about maybe not really breaking free after all. That maybe he's stuck here again with the rest of us. Quoted Dante, if I remember correctly...

There's something else there. I don't know what it is. A creative crisis, maybe. Midlife crisis, I don't know. But also, I wonder - and I realize this is crazy - but what if the universe sent him back to... help me finally get out of here? Delusions of grandeur much, Rach? Why, yes. Is that news to you?

-Rachel sighs-

I don't want to keep doing this to you, Chloe. I think it will be best if we... shit, if we what? Break up? Become friends? Stay friends only? I... still love you, Chloe Price. Ugh. That suddenly sounds so fucking fake... Maybe this is all just a test... And it's not even like Mark and I have anything... physical going on. He keeps his distance, even though we've been meeting and talking for months, and I know he knows how I feel. And it's not like he even tries to stay strictly professional, or play at dad, like he does with Nathan. I mean, he... flirts. I know he's attracted to me. But it's been four months and we've been alone a ton - he has this really clandestine studio in an apocalypse bunker belonging to the Prescott family - and he hasn't touched me. Maybe he's trying to be careful because of school and everything. You know how rumors travel in this place. Maybe he's waiting until we're out of here...

-Silence-

Mark, he... said he's been getting some positive responses about my shots, so... When the school is over, he said... he could take me to LA, to visit a few places and help me find gigs and settle down...

-Rachel groans-

How am I going to tell you this, Chloe Price?

Fuck it. It will be fine. You're not stupid. You heard me say what I said today. You already know. As much as we can know anything. I mean, we don't actually know what's going to happen. We don't know if this is the end of us, or... I'm not going to lie. Or hide. I'll listen back to this a few times and come up with a good way to tell you. And beg you to be my friend through this. Is it possible? Fuck. I wish it was.

Anyway, that's tomorrow, after school.

Tonight, I have a date with Nathan. Yes, you heard that right. It's hella weird. Like an hour after you dropped me off, Nathan calls me and says he wants to talk to me about Eliot. Which, as you know, no one's been talking about Eliot. So I'm meeting him in the parking lot a bit later. I hope it's not an excuse to make a lame move on me, or anything. Nathan knows about me and Mark, of course. I mean, better than anyone else at Blackwell, at least. And if I'm honest, I may have picked up on a jealous vibe once or twice... Anyway, whatever it is, I'll probably tell you about this first tomorrow. You know, before everything else.

Until then, Rachel Amber, the Unfaithful, signing off...

-Rachel sighs-

No. Hold on. I can't end this like this. Chloe Price, you are one in a hundred infinities. It's not your fault we never escaped. That's not what this is about. These last three years were the happiest of my life. I was always happy with you. If I hadn't met Mark, you and I would be leaving this town together in the summer. We would make it work. But I did meet him, and somehow I am now in love with this man. It's weird to be telling you this, because I remember feeling this way when I met you, but I feel like my life is about to change. I can't feel this way and keep making plans with you right now. I will tell you this tomorrow. We will talk this over, and it will not be easy or pretty, but you will understand. What we had was beautiful, and real, but like with everything else, this town beat us again. I'm sorry.


	23. Entry 2 (23): July 23, 2012. 7:23PM

Recorded: 7.23.12 7:23PM Length: 5m37s

Chloe, what just happened?

Am I losing my mind? Was that weed laced?

Remember all that weird shit happening when we first met? With the fire and my… Sera, and that psycho Damon? Well, today was was way weirder than that. Do you have any idea how crazy it feels to tell you this now? I mean, you were there!

-Rachel groans-

I swear, if this was some kind of a prank, Chloe Price, I will disown you, and we will never speak again.

…At first, everything was normal. You picked me up. We went and got a hangover special at the Two Whales, then drove back to your place. Ran into Step Ladder in the driveway, so happy about something, it seemed like he was about to defile the both of us with crushing fatherly hugs. Apparently, Wells boozed away the last of his marbles and made David the Head of Security at Blackwell.

Wait a minute. Is that it? Did your stepfather destroy the space-time continuum by... getting a job?

Anyway, thanks for telling the step-douche you'd hit him with a tire iron if he touched us. At least you're still good for something, Chloe Price

Once David drove off to Blackwell, we went upstairs and smoked and listened to some music, and talked about going to Mt. Hood for a few days before the school started. Somehow, we spent like six hours doing this, and I still didn't bring up going to LA, like I'd promised yesterday. I guess I was waiting for the right moment or… for you to mention it, or… Ugh. I don't know. It's not important right now. We'll talk about it. Just... not today.

Next was a supply run for the junk-shack, and I had to fairly drag your curmudgeonly ass into the photo booth, so that we would have at least one pic of us from 20-fucking-12.

Note to self: schedule a therapy session for Chloe's photophobia.

Though, in this particular case I probably should have left you the fuck alone…

We got into the booth, and managed to take a couple of decent shots, even though you just had to stick your tongue out and flip the bird… But then the third flash came, and…

-Rachel inhales deeply-

And… you... you just flipped…

I… your face turned so white that I almost… I don't know. And your eyes… And then you started bawling and hugging me like four step-douches at once, and before I could even freak out properly, you were kissing me, and your tears were just streaming down my face, Chloe. I couldn't even breathe…

-Silence-

…Then, abruptly, you pulled back, and we sat there panting, with our foreheads touching. Again, before I could even suck in enough air to say "What the fuck, Chloe Price," you started speaking, just rattling these things off.

"Rachel. Oh my god, Rachel, it's really you. Max did it. She really did it. It's fucking amazing. Oh, it hurts so much, Rachel. I don't have any time. How am I supposed to leave you now? No. Listen, you have to listen. Stay away from Nathan Prescott. Also, stay away from Mark Jefferson. Especially him. He is a murdering psycho. Do not trust anything he says. Do not go anywhere with him. Or Nathan. Oh god, Rachel, I hope this is enough. Max can't hold it. I hope this is enough, even though if it is, we're probably eternally fucked. But I don't care. It's worth it. I love you, Rachel."

For a second you just looked at me and I sat there, horrified, waiting for you to laugh in my face and tell me it was all a joke.

Instead… the last thing you said was, "Tell her about Frank, Rachel. You have to tell this version of me about Frank. And tell her not to go looking for..."

Then you were gone... Or back... I don't even know...

Next thing I remember is you asking me what's wrong. I didn't know what to do, so I just pretended that I was having one of my tantrums and told you to take me home, which you did. I may have hurt your feelings. I'm sorry about that. I hope you will listen to this one day and understand. Unless of course all of this was your idea of a joke, which, if that's the case, Chloe Price, I'm going to push this version of you off the fucking cliff by the lighthouse.

And if it wasn't a joke, then what the hell was it? A message from the parallel universe? From the future? What am I supposed do with it? Stay away from Nathan? Like, how? We go to the same school. And Mark Jefferson? Where have I heard that name?

And… Frank? Oh, Chloe, how did you find out about Frank?

I can't deal with this alone. Tomorrow, I'm going to tell you everything.


End file.
